


Hancock and Darling do Sex for Science

by Kittenly



Series: Halfway to Heaven and Just a Mile Outta Hell [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bisexual Disasters, Crack, Darling and Hancock read terrible erotica, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Mild Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, but it was sort of a near thing, but like--sweet rough sex, ill-advised sex acts, no penises were harmed in the making of this smut, sort of sporking maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenly/pseuds/Kittenly
Summary: The Wasteland can be awful boring when it’s not trying to maim, dismember, or murder you, but Hancock and Darling are a creative pair. Leave them alone in a room with scavenged, old-world smut and they'll come up with something. And thus "How to sex according to bad erotica" was born.There are two rules:1. Follow the text as closely as possible, except:2. Modify or don’t do anything that seems likely to result in lasting harm





	Hancock and Darling do Sex for Science

**Author's Note:**

> I included this in the series with my other FO4 fics, but none of them are necessary reading to follow this.

There are few things I enjoy more than a trashy romance novel. Hancock had laughed at my collection of scavenged, shitty paperbacks, but once he’d started he was hooked as bad as me. Even worse, cause while I just found them funny, Hancock’s got a romantic heart and he eats that bullshit up.

But even he has limits. He’ll suspend his disbelief from a fucking flag pole for the sake of True Love--unless it’s the sex that’s bad. Probably the things you know best are the things you get the most nitpicky about. And as much as I’d never tell him to his face, Hancock knows what he’s doing when it comes to bedroom activities. I would know, given how… _generous_ he is with his demonstrations.

I don’t even remember who came up with the idea originally, just that it was a stroke of god damn genius. Probably stemmed from some vague and pseudo-poetic description of fucking that only contortionists with missing ribs could manage, but somehow Hancock and I ended up trying to follow along and figure out what in hell’s name they were doing. Then because even shit porn is still porn, the clothes eventually came off and we got a nice shag out of it--after we gave up on our quest to recreate non-euclidean lovemaking.

After that, “How to Sex According to Bad Erotica” became one of our favorite ways to kill an afternoon.

It’s funny. When I was growing up and even when Nate and I were married, sex was always this Big Deal. First, it was a Big Deal to not have it before marriage (Good ol’ Family Values). Then once you could have it, every time you wanted it, it had to be a momentous occasion of True Passion where two people become one and blah blah. Never once did we have sex just cause it sounded like fun or cause we wanted to blow off a little steam. No one from my old life would ever dream walking up to their partner during the middle of the day, flopping down on them like a fish, and the start whining about being horny.

I’ve never really had much of a libido, but something about how casual Hancock is about sex works for me. It’s an activity. Something fun to do together that feels good and lets us have some time to be a bit silly. And you gotta find ways to laugh in this god forsaken wasteland.

* * *

 

The Old State House was heavy with heat and humidity. Summer was in full swing, and most of the Wasteland was draped in a lazy quiet, Goodneighbor included. It was too hot to even think about doing anything outside, and even more telling, I’d finally found something that would make me hang up my precious Silver Shroud coat: the threat of imminent heat stroke.  

Hancock had chosen to escape the heat by sleeping through it. His arms were tucked under his head, his cotton shirt was unbuttoned down his chest, and his tricorn was tipped over his eyes. I was too antsy to sleep, but Hancock's steady, drowsy breathing was calming enough that I managed to sit still enough to read. There wasn’t a whole lot of room on this cot, and in this weather I wasn’t gonna let him sleep on me like I usually did. So I sat cross legged beside him, my knee butting against his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ on a pogo stick,” I muttered to myself, trying to contain giggles. And apparently not succeeding because Hancock lifted his hat and glared.

“You’re shaking the bed,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said. I read another line and a genuine snort escaped me.

“Well if you’re gonna keep me awake, at least share what’s so damn funny.”

“It’s laughter born of despair,” I said. “How does any editor see this and say, ‘Yes, this is what will titillate the masses.’”

Curiosity piqued, Hancock squirmed upright and draped himself bonelessly over my shoulders like a ghouly boa. Then because he’s Hancock, he took a second to put his hat back on.

“Alright, you got my attention. Now share.”

I looked back through the last few pages I’d read. “So context, such as there is: Our Heroine--let’s just say that’s her name--is at a medieval reenactment, uh, pub I think. And she needs to pee but there’s too long a wait for the women’s room so she goes into the men’s. And there's this hunk dressed up like a medieval knight.”

“Sure, why not?” he said gamely and bumped his head against mine

“And then:

 

_“And the sight of the huge cock the knight is holding in his right hand as he shakes off the last few drops of pee is even more dazzling.”_

 

Silence in my ear. Even his raspy breathing had stopped short.

“What?” he asked.

“What, what?” I grinned impishly at him. “You need me to read it again?”

“Does this girl have a piss thing?” he asked, peering skeptically over my shoulder. “Cause while its not _necessarily_ a deal breaker I’d really like to know up front.”

“No, no--the cock’s dazzling. Not the pee,” I said. “Though I can forgive the mistake, the sentence structure ain’t real lucid.”

“Uh huh,” Hancock said, already losing interest. He pulled the collar of my shirt aside and began kissing at the base of my neck. But kissing was never enough, and soon the kisses were broken up by none to gentle biting. He was giving me a fucking hickey. But I didn’t mind. At least not in the moment. Not when his mouth blazed against my neck.

The rest of the room was already warm and I came to the conclusion that clothing was just exacerbating the problem. Clothes were stupid. They should leave. Especially if Hancock was going to keep touching me.

And that seemed to be his plan. His hands untucked my shirt and slid under it and then immediately up under my sports bra. Zero to full on groping in about two seconds. I leaned back against him and more or less purred. Just the pressure of his hands against me was magical.

“God, that feels nice,” I said. I felt him smile and then pressed a quick kiss into one of the spots he’d marked me.

“Arms up.” Hancock must’ve had a similar revelation about the problems of clothing in the heat. That, or he just liked it when I was naked. Either way, I complied, and he pulled my shirt and bra off in one motion. It might have been what I wanted, but even after all this time, my stomach dropped and twisted when the burn scars that spanned almost the entire left half of my body were uncovered. I couldn’t help but try and huddle in on myself, a futile attempt to hide the damaged skin. Hancock wouldn’t let me.

He knew to expect it and once I was bare from the waist up, he slide his arms under mine and across my middle. Held tight against his chest like that there was no way for me to try and make myself small. Then he set about kissing the scars on my left shoulder. One hand traced up and down the old burns over my left side, making sure to press hard enough for me to feel despite the nerve damage. Every time he undressed me he spent some time giving special attention and affection to that part of me. Made me feel like maybe the ugly, warped mess is still just skin if he can love it as much as the rest.

I found his head with my burnt-up hand and guided him over so I could kiss him. He might have been virtually lipless but his mouth still managed to be soft against mine. And eager. I kissed him, then kissed him again. And again, each time a bit messier until suddenly his tongue was in my mouth and the scent and taste of him was the only thing in my head. His hands ran down my sides, and I gave a full body shudder. The warmth in the room dimmed in my sensory perception as the warmth inside me kindled. The heat of his skin, which would have been uncomfortable before, just added fuel to the flames.

I finally managed to pull away. Hancock stared at me, his eyes shining and dark and full of unrepentant desire. I grinned and flapped the book in his face. “So are we just gonna boink or we gonna play our game?”

He plucked the paperback from my hand. “If you promise we’re past the piss part, then sure. I’m down.”

“Sadly, if this book goes like I expect, I doubt there’ll be much opportunity for you to go down.”

“That’s dumb,” he grumbled. “Why is there so little pussy eating and pegging in these books? Those are two of my favorite sex things.”

“Most every sex thing is one of your favorite sex things,” I pointed out and took the book back. He shrugged and didn’t disagree.

“Kay,” he said, resting his chin on my shoulder and his hands on my stomach. “We got the piss stick. What then?”

“Such an eloquent summary,” I said as I found the spot I’d left off.

 

 _‘I don’t need to pee any more. Now I just need to get laid._ _  
_ _The knight gives me a knowing smile, and jiggles his giant cock in my direction._

_"You look like a fair maiden in need of a good visit from the codpiece," he says.’_

 

“I just…no,” I said, interrupting myself.

“Should I know what a codpiece is?” Hancock asked.

“They started as a part of armor to protect your bits, since plate legs didn’t meet in front. But by some point they were basically decorative dicks glued to the front of armor so knights and nobles could imply they were impressively endowed.” I frowned, considering the word choice far more seriously than this book deserved. “But I don’t think you gonna call your own dick a codpiece? It certainly ain’t a popular euphemism for the time period. Explain to me author!” I demanded of the fragile, yellowed book.

“I learn so much when I’m with you,” Hancock said fondly, kissing my cheek. His hands went back to feeling up my tits, and I couldn’t quite suppress a little squeak when he played with my nipple piercings. I still ain’t sure how he’d talked me into _that_ life choice, but the return on investment had been impressive.

“That’s...exactly why we’re doing this,” I said, trying to not let my voice tremble despite Hancock teasing my already stiff nipples. “Your education.” Jesus, he was almost too good at turning me to incoherent goo. We needed to hit the sex scene soon or I doubted we’d get there at all. I was already about ready to turn and jump him. The next lines came out a bit breathier:

 

_“I don’t even know what century I’m in right now. And I don’t care. All I care  about is getting Gorgeous Mystery Knight’s giant codpiece up my twat in a hurry.”_

 

Hancock shook his head. “Didn’t she just _time travel?_ ” he said. “Shouldn’t that be, I dunno, a little higher priority than some scaver’s meat wand?”

I was about to agree with him when something worse occurred to me.  

“Don’t his cock still technically have pee on it?” I asked. “We ain’t gonna do nothing about that? No? C'mon, Our Heroine, you don’t know where that thing’s been.”

“You take ghoul dick regularly,” Hancock laughed into my ear. I felt a terribly smug smile settle on my lips. I certainly did. “Seems a strange thing for you to criticize her about gross genitals.”

“But I know where your prick’s been,” I pointed out.

“In you, mostly,” he said.

“Exactly. I’m not jumping on some random scaver’s gross, potentially diseased swizzle stick. I’m jumping on my boyfriend’s gross, potentially diseased swizzle stick. Huge difference.”

He tugged sharply on both nipple bars and I yelped. I probably deserved that.

“Rude,” he said.

“Just say--” his fingers primed themselves for another tweaking and I stopped myself. When it became clear I was done insulting him they relaxed and resumed their playful exploration of my skin.

“This is already way too much foreplay,” I said, eyes shut and voice still pitched rather high.

“Then keep reading. Not much I can do with an inner monologue and I don’t care enough about staying faithful to the scene to take a piss before I fuck you.”

“Probably be difficult anyway,” I said, scootching back and pressing myself against his already prominent hard-on. I opened the book.

“Alright, we’re through the portal into Generic Medieval Castle Land. Yeah, yeah, boring setting detail--we don’t care... Ah. Here:

 

“ _Another couple flicks of my knight’s supple wrists, and I find myself naked and  thrown headfirst over the wooden bench, my ass sticking straight up in the air. Gorgeous  Knight, fully clothed, spreads my butt cheeks wide, whips his giant cock out of his breeches, and takes me from behind._ ”

 

“Finally, something I can work with,” said Hancock as he hauled me up off the bed. I grabbed my shirt on the way up and pulled it back over my head. He spun me to face him, considering.

“Well that’s going to make stripping you via wrist flicks a little harder,” he said and wiggled his hands at me.

I smoothed out the front of my shirt. “Our Heroine was fully clothed; I was kind enough to leave the bra off. This is easy mode.”

A mischievous grin spread over his face and he leaned in close. “I think we’re going to go with the spirit of the passage over the letter,” he said.

His hands were under my shirt again before he finished talking, undoing my work. He tossed it carelessly to the floor and managed to both unfasten my belt and spin me back around in one smooth motion. Then my trousers and underwear were on the floor, and one hand held me tight across the middle while the other pressed between my legs.

It was everything the book wanted to be: aggressive, demanding, and hot as hell. It was a hold that told me in no uncertain terms that I was about to be fucked.

“What was next, Sunshine,” he said. “Something about your ass in the air?”

“Mm,” was all I managed to say. With that same unyielding hold, he pushed me over to the desk, which I guess wasn’t to far off from a bench. Then he unceremoniously bent me over and pulled my legs apart.

And that’s where the scene fell apart. Despite how arousing Hancock had managed to make things so far, we’d been at this for maybe four minutes and I was nowhere near wet enough to be taken without lube.

Hancock’s groan was not entirely one of pleasure as he pushed into me.

“Ow,” I said into the desk. “Thus the importance of foreplay is impressed upon us.”

“Folk clearly didn’t have a rightful appreciation for the build-up in your time,” said Hancock pulling out. I grunted in agreement.

“You still hard?” I asked.

“Flagging a little.”

“We can try to find something--” I made to push myself up but Hancock’s hand landed hard on the small of my back.

“I dunno,” he said and with his other hand patted my rear. “Seems an awful shame to waste such a good position.”

The hand on my back slid forward up my spine to my shoulder and squeezed. His other hand soon joined it and he leaned over me, messaging the muscles in my back. I let myself sink fully onto the desk, relaxing as much as I could.

“Fuck,” I whispered. His hands were so heavy on my skin and between attempts to work out the million knots in my back his hands would drift down and stroke my sides. I shivered under his touch and heat lanced through my body in every which way. A very sexual sounding moan escaped me, partially for his benefit but mostly because my sides were terribly sensitive it felt _good_  and I wanted more.

As if in answer to my desire, one of his hands returned to my ass and then kept moving down. I was still laid out in the rather compromising position and my noises turned into a squeak as his fingers slipped between my folds.

“This is more like it,” he said, sliding his fingers over my increasingly slick cunt. He found my clit and started rubbing it in slow little circles. When he’d found a rhythm that made me make embarrassing and completely involuntary noises, he used his free had to guide one of my legs up onto the desk.

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly. “Hands. Good.”

“Such a poet: ‘hands good.’” His circles picked up speed.

It took most of my considerable willpower not fall apart under his touch so I could retort, “Least I made words. You--” He leaned over me and pressed kisses into my back. Between that and the inexorable attention of his fingers I was climbing toward climax with remarkable speed. Still, I managed to get to the end of the thought. “--can’t get out a full syllable when I bend _you_ over.” I tried and failed to hold in a moan as the tension began to pull together inside me.

“Hancock,” I said and scrambled for any hold I could get on the desk. “I’m gonna--”

His fingers left me and my cunt gave a few weak spasms that were a shadow of an orgasm. I hung near the precipice for a moment or two then the tension ebbed and I slipped away from the peak warm, wet, and unsatisfied.

“Not yet,” he said, and I heard the rustling of fabric behind me as he finished with the few buttons that were still secure. “We’re gonna try this again.”

“Book said ‘fully clothed,’” I reminded him. “No stripping yet.”

He huffed behind me but stopped. “Not fair that only you get to be naked,” he pouted.

“Then get to it,” I said and wiggled my ass at him. “I’m sure it’ll happen soon.”

The book hadn’t mentioned lube so technically Hancock wasn’t supposed to use any, but I heard the quiet click of a bottle top opening anyway. Between that and the fact that being edged had left me soaked, his cock went in smooth and easy this time. Nothing but the delicious heat of his skin and the pressure of being filled. He didn’t give me long to savor it though as he apparently remembered he was supposed to be having a quick shag with some wench and not pleasuring his partner. His hands dropped to my back as he held me down and, following dutifully along with the book, took me from behind.

Being fucked hard is its own special kind of pleasure. It’s not something that will get me off on its own. Though I could feel his length against my g-spot, it wasn’t the right sort of stimulation to build toward orgasm. But on some level that barely mattered. The feeling of him moving in me was overwhelming in its intensity. My nerve endings fired like shooting stars--erratic and unpredictable and every spark its own self-contained bliss.

His motions slowed for a moment and I distantly heard the rustle of his shirt being shrugged off his shoulders and flung to the floor. Must have finally lost patience with the ‘fully clothed’ clause. I opened my mouth to scold him but lost focus when his arms came down on either side of me and his torso settled on top of me. His skin was white hot against mine and burned as he pulled me to him. When he was happy with the new arrangement, he resumed his demanding pace. I gasped at the intensity of it all and rested my cheek against the desk. There was nothing to do but ride the sensation. His presence flooded all my senses until there was nothing else in my brain. Just Hancock taking his pleasure from me without an ounce of shame. And me giving it wholeheartedly.

Moments like this were some of the only times when my brain went completely quiet. Wasteland life was not exactly relaxing and even when things were calm my brain had a whole past of terrible things to ruminate on. But here the stress faded to static which then got lost in the rushing of blood in my ears. At the center of this vortex of sensory stimulation there was a precious, elusive stillness.

I couldn’t be sure how long I floated in that stillness when Hancock slowed and came to a shuddering stop. His breath beat the back of my neck in ragged bursts, probably trying to pull himself back from his own edge. I found one of his hands and squeezed as hard as I could muster. Which probably wasn’t very hard all things considered, but it was the thought that mattered.

“What comes next?” my impossible boyfriend asked.

I giggled from under him and released his hand to grope for the paperback. It turned out to be more of a challenge than it should have been, as Hancock wasn’t moving and had given up on supporting his weight on his own arms at all. Which meant it was all on me. When I finally managed it, I scanned the page I’d left it on, trying to get my eyes to focus on the words. A difficult task, as Hancock had resumed his earlier activity of kissing my back and it was rather distracting. It didn’t help that even small movements carried all the way through us and just the feeling of him shifting inside me sent a few sparks along my nerve endings. Part of me would have been content to leave it here, let this romp finish sweet and slow.

But the book was held open in my hand and I’d already committed to the game. We were going to finish this the way we started: with manic giggling. And hopefully we’d manage to keep all sex organs whole and functional.

“Kay, here goes,” I said. “‘We continue to fuck doggy-style over the bench for several minutes--’”

“Think we managed that already,” Hancock said. “I don’t think we’re gonna get any farther if we go back to it.”

“Very possibly.” I scanned ahead for the next good excerpt and choked on my own spit. I started laughing, high and helpless and wheezing as there was an adult man flopped on top of me.

“What?” he demanded. I could barely answer.

“Fucking hell,” I said. “Here goes: ‘

 

_“I buck up against him hard mid-thrust, tipping him off  balance. Once he’s lost his footing, I pull myself off his cock – my cunt makes a  disappointed queeb sound as we separate--”_

 

My hysterics started again, and tears stung the corners of my eyes.

“Queeb?” asked Hancock. He finally propped himself up onto his arms again. A good thing, as I was one the verge of passing out due to lack of oxygen.

“ _Queeb_ ,” I managed to squeak back at him.

His forehead thumped against me and the giggles took him too. When I finally got half a breath back, I mustered what leverage I could from my awkward position. It was awful ineffective, but Hancock got what I was going for and pushed himself up. When he was on his feet I gave him a proper shove backwards with my ass. Sadly, there wasn’t any particular noise as he slide out of me.

“Hmm. Clearly we did it wrong,” Hancock said seriously. “There was no queeb to speak of.”

“Better try again,” I said. “We can’t just give up on the queeb without a real effort.”

“That would be criminal,” he  agreed. His hands found my hips and he slid back into me with terrible slowness, making sure I felt each inch as my body yielded to him. When he was fully inside he gave a few deep, erratic thrusts to make sure he was seated as thorough as he could be. I gasped into the the desk as he did so. He felt so good, filling my up like this. I almost didn’t want him to pull out again. But I am nothing if not dedicated to stupid ideas.  

“What’s our best course of action, you think?” he asked. “Fast or slow?”

I hauled myself onto my elbows. Aftershocks of laughter hadn’t faded all the way and the full hysterics threatened to surface again if I didn’t keep a hold of myself. I took a deep breath, trying to settle down.

“Well given I ain’t actually in possession of a vacuum vagina, I dunno how much it matters.”

“What! I feel lied to,” said Hancock, not quite managing to sell the pout. “How could you do this to me? What’s the point of sex is there’s no queeb?”

“My deepest apologies,” I said flatly. While he was distracted by the concept of queeb, I surreptitiously hooked the foot that had still been on the ground around the back of his ankle. “Now I’m supposed to buck back into you and send you sprawling to the ground.”

“Good luck with your current lev--”

I pushed back, planted my foot, and stood, his cock sliding out of me as I twisted towards the foot I had trapped. For good measure, I caught his shoulder and shoved, levering him over my knee. He hit the old statehouse floor with a heavy thump that knocked the breath clean from his lungs. I followed my momentum, stepping over him with the leg that had been up on the desk and dropping to my knees so I straddled his hips. The fall had finally knocked his stupid hat off, and with the hand not currently clutching the book, I set it on my own head.

“What were you saying?” I asked, leaning over him so our noses would have touched if he still had one.

“That’s…my hat,” he said, trying to pull in enough air to make words.

“No, I think it’s my hat now.” He tried to reach up, but I got my hands on his shoulders and held him down. The specifics of our position seemed to dawn on him at that moment. His gaze flicked down from my head to my tits and then lower to where my legs were spread over him. He gulped audibly and looked back up with fire in his eyes. I gave him my most insufferable smirk and pressed my still wet cunt against his cock, which had come to rest against his abdomen after his tumble. He grinned up at me.

“You gonna ride _me_ now?”

“Let’s find out,” I said, sitting up and flipping the book back open and began to read.

 

_“‘I come two more times when I  spin myself around and around on his cock like a top, and take the last few strokes down from the rear.’”_

 

I squinted at the page, trying to make sure I’d read that right.

Hancock looked dubiously down at his cock. “Like a top? And lube has not been mentioned at all, has it?”

“Not once.”

He sighed, but the smiled up at me. “Well, I know it’s not true to text, but can we try to figure this out on the bed?” His smile gained a teasing edge. “Last time you fucked me on this floor I got splinters in unfortunate places.”

I laughed and stood up, helping Hancock to his feet after me. On standing, he caught me by the waist and pulled me close. The  smile shown all the way to his eyes and I felt myself redden under the sheer sincerity radiating from him.

“Right,” I said, smiling myself but not able to meet his eyes directly. I pressed myself against him, finding it easier to talk into his collarbone than his face. “Let’s go break your dick.”

Hancock made a pained noise. “We can make some sort of attempt.” He reached behind me and grabbed the bottle of lube from the desk. “But I got a feeling I’m gonna have to plead Rule Two on this one.”

“But first,” I said and ground my hips against him. His attention snapped back to me. “You apparently owe me an orgasm.”

“Do I?” One of his hands left my waist and dragged over my skin and through my curls before slipping between my folds. The lube from earlier was still slick and his fingers knew me well. I leaned into him and pulled my knee up against his hip. His hand cupped me and he kissed my neck while letting me grind my clit against his hand.

“Yes,” I said into his shoulder. His kissing heated up against my skin. Sucking bruises must not have been satisfying enough for him as his teeth started to make their appearance. “If Our Heroine has two _more_ while she spins on him, must've gotten one before.”

His hand slide down a little, and two fingers plunged into me. I moaned his name and squeezed with the leg that was slung around him. It wasn’t the same satisfying fullness of his cock, but his fingers were far more dexterous and he soon found what he was looking for. The knee supporting me almost gave out as he crooked his fingers and stroked the magic spot. Waves of pleasure and tension pulsed through me. I squeezed around him as tight as I could and was rewarded when his fingers seemed to drag out pleasure from deeper in me.

“God damn,” I whispered.

He managed to tear away from the task of marking me to murmur in my ear. “Feel good?”

I laughed helplessly and pulled myself harder against him. “Feels great.”

“Good,” he said. “You getting close?”

Between his ministrations within me and my own grinding against his hand, I was. And this one was already feeling better that my first approach. I needed the clitoral stimulation, but coming from just that could feel shallow. Now the heat was gathering deeper.

“Yeah,” I said, and braced myself for impact. I panted, as if I were actually sprinting towards my release instead of being pushed there by this man and his magical fingers.

And then for the second time that night his hand fell away and I was left empty. The pooling heat dispersed like embers in the breeze. I dug my nails into his shoulder and cried out in frustration. The bastard had the audacity to snicker.

“Hancock!” I shoved myself back from him and glared. “What part about ‘you owe me an orgasm’ did you miss?”

“Edging is sort of like an orgasm,” he said and plucked his hat off my head. Then he considered the fingers he’d been fucking me with and licked them. Watching him taste my arousal had no right to turn me on as much as it did.

“It’s exactly _unlike_ an orgasm,” I said, taking him by the arm and dragging him over to the bed. He didn’t resist as I threw him down onto the mattress. He hit with a squeal of springs and flipped over onto his back. I considered his trousers for a moment. Hot Knight still seemed to have his breeches on if I remembered correctly, but we’d deviated enough that I didn’t care anymore. Tugging Hancock’s pants down off his skinny hips was easy enough. He took care of his underwear himself and stretched out along the whole length of the little bed, bare except for the hat which he’d managed to hold onto his head. His cock lay hard and cheeky against his stomach.

I sat down beside Hancock with a bounce and took the lube from him. A contented sigh escaped him as I generously slicked him up and I couldn’t keep a full grip on my frustration. Not when he was so happy he nearly glowed. I couldn’t help but pause a moment, and take in the full sight of my best friend, sprawled naked on our bed, his ghoulish face ugly as sin and absolutely perfect.

“You ready?” I asked, a devilish grin sneaking onto my face.

His black eyes flicked open and the faint ridges where his eyebrows had once been lifted.

“Not even a little,” he said. “But so long as you stop before one of us actually gets hurt, I ain’t gonna ruin your experiment.”

“Would the book lie to us?” I asked, waving it at him. “Spinning like a top must be the peak of erotic pleasure.”

Hancock didn’t bother to reply and after a moment, I set the book on the floor and crawled over him. Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss that was far too sweet for this scene to his mouth. He returned it, sweetness and all, and lifted his cock so its head was pressed to my entrance. When we were lined up I eased myself back, taking him to the hilt and dragging a long, helpless moan from him. That sound, just as much as the feeling of his skin against mine, pulled the heat back together in my gut.  Being pushed so close to the peak before left all my nerve endings awake and eager to fire off. I steadied myself with my hands against his chest. His own hands laid over mine and a faint flush had settled across his face. He gave a few feeble jerks of his hips, his body’s way of begging me to ride him hard. I had other plans.

“Alright,” I said unevenly. I coughed to clear my throat. “Operation ‘Spinning Human Top,’ underway.”

A moment passed with me straddling him, unmoving. Then another.

“We’re off to a great start,” he said from below.

I shuffled, trying to get a sense of where my limbs were and reasonable ways to move them.

“I’m thinking,” I snapped. “The logistics here are very important.”

“You can take as much time as you want,” he said and gave his hips a proper roll. “I’ll just enjoy the view.”

I gave my hips a slow turn, trying to keep from clenching around him. It could have gone worse. My body wanted to hold him tight, but if I made the effort, I could control the impulse. Now I just needed to figure out how the fuck I was supposed to move my legs to manage to turn on the spot.

“Spread your legs,” I told him.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Hancock. He deserved a sarcastic response, but I was too preoccupied at the moment to think of one.

Carefully, I shifted all of my weight to my good knee and placed my other foot between his legs. Then I made my slow, very un-toplike rotation, making sure everything slid along smoothly.

“How’s the peak of erotic pleasure?” Hancock asked when I was about a quarter of the way around. I’d gotten as far as I’d get with my knee still planted in its starting position.

“You keep talking you’re gonna get a knee to the face,” I said. “Don’t distract me.” I started shifting onto my toes and then slowly onto the foot that was between Hancock’s legs.

“But I’m getting bored,” he said. “But the kind of bored where I’m also scared that at any second you’re gonna spin my dick off and that’s the worst kind of bored.”

“I wanna see if I can get all the way--” I’d gotten maybe half of my weight over to the other leg when my foot slipped just a little. For anyone else, it probably would have been insignificant, but it put just enough tork on my bad knee that it gave out completely under me. I yelped, both in pain and surprise and tumbled off Hancock entirely. The bed was a narrow thing and I hit the edge of the mattress and bounced to the floor. It wasn’t a long drop at least. My knee throbbed and I sat up and glared at it.

Hancock, unsurprisingly, was laughing uproariously in the bed beside me. Losing his goddamn mind. I pulled myself back up beside him, which wasn’t easy when my right leg wouldn’t bear any weight. The whole bed frame shook though Hancock’s giggles were climbing in pitch and starting to disappear all together, leaving him convulsing silently.

“You’re gonna have to breathe at some point,” I said, unable to keep from laughing myself. He took a desperate gulp of air and while they didn’t completely go away, he managed to more or less get control over the giggles. He scrambled to sitting, once again making sure his hat was still in place at the end.

“Come here you disaster woman,” he said, patting his thigh.

“We’re not trying that again,” I said.  

“No? But it went so well,” he said and I let myself be pulled into his lap. He nudged his erection against my leg. I rolled my eyes but arranged myself so I was straddling him again. Just this time he was sitting and I could arrange my legs around him in a way that didn’t twist my knee.

He seated himself within me again with a sigh of pleasure that I echoed. I leaned against his chest, which twitched every so often with the aftershocks of his hysterics.

“What now?” I asked, shivering as his fingers dragged along my sides. “How are we gonna get off if spinning like a top is bust? I feel so betrayed by bad erotica.”

“Speak for yourself--I have this book to thank for giving me the magical image of you keeling ass over tea kettle onto the floor.” He stroked my cheek. “Gonna treasure that until I die.”

I groaned partly from embarrassment and partly because Hancock had started moving. It was a relaxed pace and I joined him in it, moving against him in turn. I nuzzled his hand.

“At least no penises were harmed in this little escapade.”

“Codpieces,” Hancock corrected. “That was the euphemism of choice.”

I looked up and found his face close to mine. His black eyes still sparkled with delight and he wore my favorite toothy grin of his. I felt warmth someplace that was significantly higher up than my nethers, and I slung my arms around his neck and kissed him on his mouth. He laughed under my lips and returned the pressure. Our pace picked up just a little. One arm wound around my back and pulled me against him more insistently. I answered by squeezing my legs around him.

It wasn’t enough. Using the height I had from sitting on him, I shifted my weight forward. With my leverage, I tilted his head back and deepened our kissing, still rolling my hips against him. There was no resistance as I pushed my tongue into his mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and a tiny bit like me from sucking his fingers clean earlier. It shouldn’t have been so nice, but it was Hancock and sometimes love is stupid. He made a soft sound in the back of his throat and with the hand on my cheek pulled me deeper into the kiss. After a few sweet moments of dominating his mouth, I finally broke the kiss and leaned into him, wanting as much of my skin against as much of his skin as was physically possible.

“Touch me,” I demanded, and clenched around him. I was rewarded with a few particularly frantic thrusts that hit just the right places to wrench an involuntary gasp from me.

“Bossy, bossy,” he chided, a smile in his voice. He pulled back just enough so he could fit a hand between us but no so far that I couldn’t still feel the heat radiating from him. The hand that had been cupping my face ran down my neck. He just happened to be going down my left side, and he traced the edges of my burn scars as he descended as if he was following some exquisite pattern. I shivered.

He paused at my breast. His hand turned cupped all of it, squeezing and fondling in time with the rolling of his hips. I looked down. Perhaps just as arousing as the feeling of everything was the sight. His hand, heavy and brazen, feeling me up and then below, where I could see the base of his cock slide in and out of me.

He gave a final squeeze to my breast and gave an impish little tug on my nipple piercing. I squeaked, much to his satisfaction. His hand continued down. Down over my belly, light enough that it almost tickled, then following the line of fine red hair down from my belly button. My breathing sped up and became more ragged with every inch he descended, the anticipation swimming through me. Then, when he had dragged his fingers all the way through my curls and arrived at the edge of where I was wet and waiting, he moved abruptly.

And booped me on the nose.

“Touch,” he said, obediently. He at least had the decency to give a few extra long, deliberate thrusts to keep the build up from fading all the way.

“I am never going have sex with you again, you unbearable asshole!” I shouted.

Hancock cackled. “You said--”

“I know what I said,” I snapped. I took charge of our pace then, ramping up the intensity. So far this position had been about riding our pleasure as long as possible, with no real end plan. That was over now. One of use was going to come, and if it wasn’t going to be me, I’d make him come whether he was ready or not. “And you know what I meant.”

His hand dropped between us and in a second was exactly where I wanted it. He rubbed his fingers across the parts of my vulva he could access, getting nice and slick himself before returning to my neglected clit.

“You’re always telling _me_ to be specific,” he said, teasing me with light touches. “This is a double standard.”

“Fine,” I chuckled. “Hancock, I’ve been ready to come since you took me over the desk. Please.”

I think the ‘please’ is what got to him. “Yeah, ‘kay,” he said, breathless as he tried to get control of his own approach. He gave me a kiss on the nose and the teasing touches turned into proper circles. The rhythm I’d been keeping dissolved under the stimulation and until was nothing but desperate movement in and against each other.

I was nearing the peak when Hancock whispered into my ear, “And still no queeb.”

We came laughing. Me first, as the heat that had been gathering in me finally overflowed and burst through all my veins. Hancock just after, burying himself deep within me and letting the ripples of my orgasm drag him over into his.

Time blurred and became meaningless. There was only helpless giggles and labored breathing and the floating sensation that followed being smacked by coming hard enough to leave your ears ringing.

When my brain finally started processing linear time again, I found myself with my forehead pressed to the side of Hancock’s neck and running my fingernails lightly over his chest. For his part, Hancock’s arms were locked behind me, holding me close as we swayed like a pair of drunks. I think he was going for gentle rocking, but sooner or later we were going to overbalance and go sprawling. I figured might as well get it over with so I leaned hard into a sway that would take us down over the mattress, as I had no desire for us to reenact my earlier tumble and end up back on the floor. We hit with a thump.

After moment to gather myself, I extracted my leg from under him. When I was untangled I pressed myself against him and resumed tracing patterns on his skin. His arms stayed clasped around me. I looked up at him and found the hopeless idiot watching me with a big, sleepy, dopey grin. It only grew when I caught his eye.

“Hey,” he said, scooching down and pressing his head to mine.

“What?”  

“Love you.”

A scarlet flush spread down to my shoulders, lighting up what skin wasn’t covered in scars or freckles. Unable to look him in the eye, I gave him three solid taps on the sternum. Maybe one day I’d be able to say it as easy as Hancock could, but for now I made it work with the gesture.

“You were doing that earlier,” he said, pulling his arm out from under me and returning the three taps to my chest.

“Was I?” I asked. I was warm and loose and would be quite content to fall asleep with him right here.

“Yep. When I was fucking you that first time, near the end. I had you held under me and you reached up and did your little ‘I love you’ tap on my shoulder.” I did not remember that. That was something I probably should have remembered. “Almost made me come right there.”

I stared at his chest, too embarrassed and still too wrapped in post-coital mind fog to respond. He gave me a final smooch on the head and leaned all the way over and grabbed the book that had started this whole thing.

“What sort of pillow talk do these assholes get up to?” he said.

“Crap pillow talk,” I sighed. “I skimmed it. Something about her ‘lady-softness--” Hancock snorted. “And then she gets thrown into a time travelers immortal harem cause Our Heroine is the Best at Sex and Mystery Knight wants to do her for all eternity or some shit. But pillow talk is minimal.”

He gave an apathetic noise and dropped the book in favor of pulling me onto his chest. I let myself be positioned and snuggled like some sort of teddy bear. World’s bitchiest teddy bear probably, but Hancock still seemed to like me.

It was almost too warm for naked cuddles, but the universe was kind and a breeze, cooling with the promise of late summer rain, blew in through the open window. It was just enough relief that my leaden limbs won out and I snuggled down into Hancock’s arms for a nap.

“Maybe one day one of your shitty books will have good sex in it,” said Hancock as he stroked my hair.

“Maybe,” I said dubiously. “But where’s the fun in that?”

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately for those of you who want to find this scintillating text (Knight Moves by  
> Jamaica Layne), it's out of print. I came across the excerpts while reading this book review: https://dearauthor.com/book-reviews/f-reviews/review-knight-moves-by-jamaica-layne/


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